


No Gasoline

by cookie_cookie_cookie



Series: The Novaks and their Kitty Boys [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Catboy Dean, Catboys & Catgirls, First Meetings, M/M, Omega Dean, Professor Castiel (Supernatural), Squirrels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:42:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26541586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookie_cookie_cookie/pseuds/cookie_cookie_cookie
Summary: Dean meets Cas for the first time, Dean’s POV
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: The Novaks and their Kitty Boys [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1611331
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	1. The Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's perspective of the first part, "Meet the Catboys." You can read this as a stand alone.

The claws of his forelimbs buried in the tree bark, its rough skin pressing into the balls of his human feet, Dean climbed towards the thick branch. Though the squirrel was concealed by leaves, he could smell the warm sweet blood rushing through her veins. Her guard was down. She was vulnerable. 

Dean has been hunting her for a while, crouching in almost every nook and cranny, watching her through the blades of grass. After living in captivity for five years, he was quite rusty when it came to hunting. Beforehand, he could capture anything easily, sometimes without much exertion. Now he had to exhaust every muscle in his body, fighting off the anxiety Ma and Pa had beaten into him, but after what seemed like forever, Dean had finally caught her off-guard.

Just as the branch was at arms length, a twig behind him snapped loudly. He flinched violently. A million thoughts tumbled into his mind, crashing into the walls until the cranium splintered.

_'What if Ma and Pa had been searching for me? What if they got angry at me for leaving?'_

Paranoia made him its bitch as it possessed every inch of his body, its thick and boneless body forking out, stretching to the tips of his fingers and toes.

_He could see them coming at him, Pa with his rough face and a gun in his meaty hand, Ma with the muscles on her face pulled tight, her sharp rancid smell flooding his nose. He could feel Pa yanking him by his limb, punching him every time Dean clawed at him or yowled. They'd drag him across the dirt, the rough rocks and sticks scraping his skin and then fling him into the trailer. Then they'd kick him until he either passed out or started dry heaving. Then Pa would pick him up and throw him into the—_

Suddenly, he felt the small of his back crashing into the rocks and ridges on the ground. The pain jerked him back into the real world. The dulling fog around him, the chill, the sounds of all the critters scurrying in the brush, disturbing the leaves. He sat up gingerly, wincing in pain. Once he was on his feet, he limped away from the tree as he heard the squirrel scurry away.

He felt disappointed in himself; before he met Ma and Pa, he excelled at hunting. He knew how to survive on his own. Now, three days after being thrown out of the house, he couldn't even move a muscle stalking prey without feeling that spike of anxiety that he'd get caught. Ma and Pa had made sure to beat that habit out of him. He remembered the time he brought a bird he had hunted into the house. He shuddered hard at the memory. " _You're not a real goddamn cat! Stop pretending you are!"_ He remembered yowling in pain as she struck him over and over until eventually his jaw was too broken and swollen. He laid against the wall in a fetal position for what seemed like several hours, fighting tears, even when he knew it was a losing battle. His face was throbbing, and his tears had stung his wounds as they trailed down to the side of his face. All he could do was lie there quietly, teary-eyed and shaking, swallowing his whimpers. 

Dean sat down in the nook of another tree he came across. He felt tired at this point. Tired. Weak. Defeated. Useless. Pathetic. After proving to be a disappointment of a pet, he was hoping he could at least still hunt. He wasn't even good at that. He was more useless than ever. Just as he sagged against the trunk and started to cry, he caught a whiff of the sweetest, most mouth-watering smell.

The smell of petrichor and damp grass mixed with sweet honey and carnations.

His legs carried him towards the source of the smell, up and down the hills, weaving around the trees, dodging the rough dying branches sagging from the trees until he reached the edge of a road. A variety of nice cars sped by. What caught his attention was the man standing at the shoulder of the road. He was built like a god or one of those soldiers—strong legs, broad chest and shoulders, and a defined jaw. Dean watched his profile. The man's face was twisted in anger and disbelief as he stared at his car. The man's handsome face looked worn. Like he had spent several nights crying and panicking. There was a sour tinge in his sweet scent. Dean wanted to go and comfort him.

Then the man kicked the car with a growl and a curse. Dean shrank back. Anxiety seized him once again. He couldn't get hurt. Not again. Still, he watched the man through the bushes, hoping to go unnoticed. The man sagged against his car and sunk to the ground, pulling his knees to his chest. He looked small. Vulnerable. A feeling Dean knew all too well. The strange man cast his eyes into the forest longingly. His pink lips stretched into a nostalgic smile. His smell grew sweeter, softer. Dean slowly peaked from behind the bushes to watch him, taking in the man's beauty. His eyes were strikingly blue. It reminded Dean of the high noon sky that hung above him like a large canvas as he laid in the grass after a good hunt, his belly full with warm and bloody flesh. 

Once Dean realized the man was looking in his direction, he squeaked and ducked back into the bushes. The man's gravelly voice called out to him. Dean could hear the gravel shifting beneath heavy feet as he approached.

"Hello?" The man called again. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

The man's words seemed genuine enough. Slowly, Dean rose from the grass, fighting back a shiver as the man's eyes fixed on him. "Hey, buddy." The man smiled at him tenderly. Instinctively, Dean shrank away. A part of Dean hoped this man would pursue him while another part dreaded it. Instead the man sat at the very spot he was standing. Patiently waiting for him. As Dean studied his face, he noticed how tender the man's eyes were, how welcoming his smile was. It wasn't predatory. Dean wanted to be closer to him. Slowly he inched towards the man. He noticed how the man took him in, a mixture of sorrow, awe and...something else Dean couldn't describe. 

"What's your name?" he asked. Dean stood for several beats of silence. Two parts of his brain warred with each other—the part that warned him not to trust the man and the other part that urged him to answer. The man waited patiently.

"D-dean." He finally answered. His voice was rough from both exhaustion and dehydration. The man's eyes surveyed his body, concern, anger and sadness flickering in his eyes. He swallowed hard before speaking again,

"Dean, I'm Castiel." 

Dean knew the man wanted to say something more. He looked down at his feet and rubbed at his arms, not knowing what to say.

"Where are you coming from, Dean?"

As if on auto-pilot, Dean pointed in the direction of the trailer. 

"Are your mommy and daddy looking for you? Where are they?"

At the mention of Ma and Pa, his lip quivered and he shook his head. "They kick me out fer bein' naughty. They says I's a bad kitty. Real bad." He didn't know if he was hallucinating but he swore he could see the man fighting an urge to cry. Dean couldn't look at his face. He stifled a flinch as the man called _Cas-steel_ lifted a hand. But he appeared to be wiping his eyes. Then they were fixing on him.

"Are you hungry?"

Dean was shocked by the question. He nodded.

"What do you like to eat?"

 _'Squirrels,'_ he wanted to say. But he knew he couldn't say that. It'd remind the kind man of what an abomination he really was. Instead he answered, shrugging as he looked down at his feet and, fisting his tail, "I'on know. They ain't fed me much." 

"How about a hamburger? There's a diner up the street. We can walk over there and have some dinner together. How does that sound?"


	2. Diner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas at the diner; Dean's POV

Dean found himself perched on the edge of a public bathroom sink while Cast-tee-el cleaned him up. People looked at him in disgust, and he felt self-conscious as usual. He shrank against _Cast-teel._ He was never one to trust people so easily, not even before meeting Ma and Pa, but there was something about this man that made Dean feel safe. He had a feeling that _Cas-stee_ l understood his pain. Almost like he had experienced it himself. Dean was curious as to what happened in the past. Castee-ee-ell had scrubbed him as clean as he could without being too vigorous and then dried him off with a paper towel before removing his jacket and wrapping it around Dean to cover him up. It was that moment when Dean realized he had been naked the whole time. It usually didn't strike him much, especially when some humans leered at him, even if it did make him a tad queasy. Maybe it was a mistake, letting Cast-tee-ell bring him here. Instead of protesting, he found himself automatically trusting the man as he led him to a booth.

A few minutes later, they both had large burgers sitting in front of them. Dean had seen hamburgers before. Ma and Pa would sometimes bring home bags from a fast food restaurant. When they were feeling generous enough, they tossed him a few fries, maybe a piece of the patty. It wasn't enough, but he was thankful he at least got food. Dean reached for his burger, tentative at first, unsure as to rather it'd be polite to start eating or not. But the man nodded, giving him the go-ahead. Dean just grabbed the burger and tore into it. The meat was warm and moist and tasty. It wasn't as bloody as he was used to, but the flavor was almost addictive. He didn't realize how sloppy and ungraceful he was being until he saw how Cas was watching him with a strange look on his face. 

"How's your food?" Castiel asked.

Dean nodded. "Is'eal guh, Misser Cass-eell." 

"You know, Dean. You can call me Cas or Cassie if you like. I know my name can be a mouthful." Dean nodded eagerly and swallowed loudly before letting out a burp so loud he could feel it in his bones. Instead of being disgusted with him, Cas—or, Mister Cas—chuckled. It was such a beautiful sound, it made Dean shiver. He blushed and covered his mouth.

"Ess-cuse me, sir," the boy said sheepishly. "That's real rude of me..."

Cas smiled and shook his head with a smile. He had the face of an angel, or a god. There was no way this god of a man would even want Dean. He was an abomination. A mutation. Though Cas never looked at him with disgust, he was sure he would eventually be disgusted and reject him. 

"It's fine, Dean. Really." 

They continued to eat in silence. Dean wondered if Cas had someone. He didn't smell mated. But Cas was a human, a pure human; wondering such things about him was inappropriate. Dean was grateful the man took it upon himself to feed him, even though he didn't have to. Still he wondered. As handsome Cas was, he had anyone falling at his feet, tripping over their feet to impress him. He couldn't possibly be single. The thought inspired a pang of jealousy in his chest. He couldn't understand why. 

"Do you have anywhere warm to sleep tonight?"

Dean shrugged. "I sleep on a tree. Iss kinda comfy sometimes, even though it can get cold at night. The squirrels are kinda nice sometimes, but they get scared of me." _Because I hunt them_ , he wanted to add. Dean didn't want to disgust this kind man. 

Cas nodded.

"Do you have any friends or family you can stay with?"

Dean shook his head. The man chewed on his lip as if he were thinking. Anxiety seized Dean once again. He sat stiffly, tail stiff, afraid of the possibility of being thrown in a shelter. Instead, the man said,

"You know, Dean. I have a spare bed at my apartment. It's warm and comfy, and we have lots of snacks if you wanna eat them. We also have some books, TVs, some board games and all sorts of other cool stuff."

Dean looked up at the man in shock. The man was offering him a bed at _his_ place. He wanted to _have_ him. 

"I-I-I don't wanna t-trouble you, Mister Cas. Yer nice and all but I'm real bad an' stinky an' loud an' I'on think you'd want me an'—"

"Dean," he held his hand up, "it's no trouble. We have plenty of room and lots of food, and..." He trailed off, as though words were hanging off of his tongue, a fraying rope wrapped around them. Dean frowned as he contemplated his options. On the one hand, he couldn't trouble this beautiful man; on the other hand, he hadn't eaten in forever. Besides, it'd only be a matter of time before someone else found him and took him to one of those shelters.

Dean looked up and nodded. “That’d be real nice. Thank you, Sir.”

\---

Apparently Cas had a brother who looked exactly like him. He didn't smell nearly as good as Cas did, but he was equally beautiful. The car ride was silent. Tense. Another catboy sat next to him. Taller than him and lanky. He had dimpled cheeks and slanted hazel eyes. His eyes were soft and kind. He had dark brown shaggy hair that was a little rough and tangled, kind of like his, but it didn't make him look ugly like it did Dean. The twin brother—Jimmy, he learned—called the boy, Sam. 

Dean watched from the backseat as Jimmy kept glancing at Castiel. It was strange, the way he looked at him. With longing, with sadness, and a million other emotions. Those blue eyes went up to look at Dean and Sam. Dean blushed a little bit as the man admired him. 

“So, uh…Dean, what kind of games do you like to play? We have tons of games at home.”

Dean thought for a moment.

“I like to play hide and go seek, but I ain’t got friends and my ma and pa ain’t like me much, so I always play by myself. I heard about when I was watching the TV one night while my masters was sleepin' and saw some human kids playin’ it on the TV. It was a funny show.”

Dean played it outside, ducking in the trees when his ma and pa were sleeping. He would hide himself in the bushes, in the boughs, and in boxes. He was half-human, so he wasn't nearly as graceful as a real cat, but he could still land quietly. He'd play until the break of dawn before sneaking back in and curling up in his bed. 

"What's hide and go seek?" Sam asked him. Dean turned and explained the game to him. The more he spoke, the more Sam watched him with rapt curiosity. It made Dean want to talk to the younger boy all day. He loved how captivated Sam was by him. For the first time in his life, he felt important. 

He felt like he found his _home._


End file.
